


Things We Lose

by shadowshrike



Category: Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates
Genre: Bittersweet, Gen, Loss of Identity, Nohr | Conquest Route
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-25
Updated: 2018-09-25
Packaged: 2019-07-17 15:44:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16098740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadowshrike/pseuds/shadowshrike
Summary: "The first thing Suzukaze lost was his words. Not all of them, of course, but enough." A brief look at surrendering a home and culture that was once your entire life.





	Things We Lose

The first thing Suzukaze lost was his words. Not all of them, of course, but enough. Hoshidan was a complicated language that only the most educated could write fluently, and with no one to practice with in Nohr, mere months into his stay Suzukaze found fuzzy gaps in his memory where the kanji should be. At first it was only the most complex words that eluded him. Archaic ones he had rarely used even when he spent every waking moment immersed in his mother tongue became ghosts lurking in the shadows just out of reach. However, Suzukaze knew with dreaded certainty the rest would eventually follow into the abyss now that he could not return home to refresh their memory.

It was only a matter of time before he slipped in his daily rituals, too. Those little things he’d learned to do in a particular way - dressing, eating, bathing - would seem silly the longer he spent away from where they were a fact of life. Suzukaze would forget their names. Their significance. He would let them morph into some bastardization of their pure form, reshaped by an existence surrounded by Nohrian culture, his ninja upbringing ultimately nothing more than a distorted echo of a past life he could never fully recapture.

The day he first forgot his words, Suzukaze told Corrin he could not teach her the language of her birth. He knew it would be true all too soon.

Next to leave were the faces. Again, not the most important ones, but ones he nevertheless never thought he would lose. The irritable butcher in his hometown scowling at his assistant, the scheming children who played card games near the castle waving at him, the farm girl who gave him a basket of produce every time he passed through her village blushing as she handed over part of her latest harvest despite his protests. Their faces blurred and meshed until all he could call to mind was the feelings they stirred in his heart rather than their features.

It had been the same way when his father passed. Ninja left no trace, not even portraits to remember them by. Suzukaze still remembered the day he thought on his father, years after his passing, and realized the only face which came to mind was that of his twin. Suzukaze hoped he never forgot Saizou’s face.

(He would.)

But what bothered him the most was when he forgot the sky. Something so simple, so fundamental, that he had never thought to look at it with the wonder it deserved. He still remembered the green of the forests and the painted fields of flowers, if only because they were echoed in his clothing and the rare imported gifts his fellow soldiers gave him from Hoshido. But the sky, the sun which blessed Hoshido with life and light, felt like nothing more than a fairy tale when one lived in a land of eternal darkness. The more it disappeared from his life, the more Suzukaze understood his Nohrian compatriots.

Suzukaze tried to tell himself it was a good thing, bonding with the place and people who would now be his home. It worked a little. He still spent many evenings in his tent, staring at the midnight blues of his Nohrian clothing, wondering which one was closest to the Hoshidan sky. He wanted to show the other Nohrians what it looked like, just once.

“Other Nohrians.”

It was hard to pinpoint when Suzukaze started thinking of them that way. When everything from his memories to his mannerisms faded enough that he started to think of himself as Nohrian rather than Hoshidan, and he truly became 'Kaze'.

It seemed silly - many of the soldiers still referred to him as “The Hoshidan” even to his face, and the women regularly commented on his ‘exotic’ features - but his heart refused to acknowledge it. They couldn’t see what he had lost. But Kaze knew he was no more Hoshidan than they anymore, no more than Corrin or Shura either. He did not remember his homeland, his people, or his language.

Nohr had become his home.

Over time, Kaze had absorbed so much from her that he scarcely realized how much he had grown, like a babe discovering the world for the first time. Many Hoshidan words disappeared from memory, but he learned to speak in a new language instead, guttural and harsh, shaped by a damnably Hoshidan mouth that couldn't make all the right sounds. The faces of Nohrian villagers, struggling but vibrant in spirit, replaced their Hoshidan counterparts who had stirred familiar feelings during his daily routines. The sun, ever-present in Hoshido, became the moon surrounded by starlight.

Kaze held onto these new experiences tightly. He now knew how fragile even the most integral parts of his existence could be. He collected memorable trinkets that never would have been permitted in his previous life as a lowly ninja. Books too, of culture and language from every land. For the first time, he sought knowledge for more than just reconnaissance; it could help guide him where tradition and expectation had designated his path in the past. And when the clouds finally broke overhead, Kaze stopped in his toils, looked up, and remembered to smile at the simple beauty of the Nohrian sky.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't think I'll ever tire delving into new aspects of Kaze's character in Conquest. In this case, I wanted to focus less on the politics and personal relations, and more on the broader aspects of losing one's identity and how painful it can be even when you made the choice to walk away. Most importantly, I wanted to explore how it is human nature to continue to move forward, and with support, grow a new, more mature identity from the ashes of the things we've lost. I may try to write something more robust at some point, but for now, I hope you enjoyed this somewhat unusual take.


End file.
